Wilting Flower
by monsoonblues
Summary: Van Fanel is a school kid. Varie is a sad recluse with no contact with the outside world.This is a story of a special friendship that develops between the two. Van and Varie not related.
1. Chapter 1

4

Van gazed at the big, crumbling house in front of him. He always thought it was right out of a dream. It seemed so magical somehow, hinting at secrets and mysteries. He shook his head and smiled, snapping out of his daydream. Foolishness, his father would tell him. His friends often teased him about it. It seemed like he never outgrew his childish fantasies and illusions of mystery and adventure. He wasn't all too worried; he was only fifteen after all. His mother often said he'd have been better off if he were born in the Renaissance period, a time of eloquence, romance and dreams. He grimaced at the thought.

He'd always been captivated by this house, ever since he could remember. It was on the longer route to his home. He'd still come here whenever he felt unhappy or down or just because he felt like it. It made him feel at peace. Like he could fill his heart with images of it and savour them until he felt content. The stonework on the house, the vines snaking around the walls, the moss stippling the window shutters, all surrounded by a lush, disorganized garden of flowers. Roses of every colour, African violets, white lilies which blushed with pink, jasmine, and more flowers he couldn't name. There seemed no order to them, it was as if they were all thrown together based on whim, but the overall effect was pleasing to the eye. It added to the charm of the decrepit house.

Suddenly, he saw a movement in one of the windows. His heart hammering, he peered at the figure; he'd never known someone lived there! It looked like a woman, he couldn't be sure. With a jolt, he realised that person was looking at him. Panicking, he jumped on to his bicycle and pedalled so fast that by the time he made it home his legs felt like they'd fall off.

Later, after he'd changed and sat down to lunch, he poked at his food, deep in thought.

"What's wrong dear?" his mother asked, concerned.

"Huh?" Van replied distractedly, "Oh nothing…"

His mother shook her head and blamed it on raging teenage hormones.

"Ma…do you know that house on Eries road? The big, old one with the garden out front? Do you know if anyone lives there?"

"Well, I'm not so sure. I heard it used to belong to a businessman, Vröd Surda, he was always away, I think he died around three years ago. Why do you want to know?"

"I saw someone at the window today, I couldn't be sure because it was dark inside, but I think it was a woman."

"A woman…" she trailed off thoughtfully, "Now that you mention it, he had a daughter, though I'm sure she can't be too old, since the old man was around seventy when he died…"

"I see. I guess she lives alone then. It's strange, I've never seen her before."

With thoughts of the mysterious woman, he quickly gobbled his food down, and in a decisive moment, he went out and grabbed his bike, determined to go take another look at the house.

He jerked to a halt outside the house and stood there, intently examining the windows for movement. It seemed like even the leaves in the garden were still, waiting in anticipation. Slowly, letting his breath out, he sat back on to his bike.

"Who are you?" he asked softly, "Why don't you come out?"

Sighing, he slowly pedalled back home, not noticing the slight shift in the window, as two eyes watched him disappear down the street.

How he hated tests. First they make you jittery, until the feeling grows into full blown panic, then they make you depressed and gloomy, _then_ they make you so fatalistic you couldn't care less how you did on the test until finally, you realise you have scrambled eggs instead of a brain and couldn't tell a monkey apart from a leprechaun.

Van mumbled goodbyes to his not-quite-as-disgruntled friends and slowly began the journey home. So engrossed was he in his thoughts, he didn't realise that he'd ended up in front of the house that had caused him so much wonder in the past.

Curious now, he leaned his bicycle against the outside wall and edged toward the gate. The gates were rusty and so thickly covered with creepers you could only see the metal in a few places. He jumped back in surprise when he saw the curtains on one of the windows was pulled back, and the same woman, at least he thought it was her, was standing there, looking at him. For a few seconds, his mind went blank. He wasn't expecting this, so he stood, frozen to his spot, mouth slightly open. She held his gaze before a smile graced her features. He hesitantly smiled back. She waved at him, motioning him to come in.

He was assailed by doubt. What were her intentions? She could be a psychopathic serial killer. Maybe this was how she lured her victims inside. But then, things couldn't possibly get worse today. Throwing caution to the winds, he creaked the gate open and gingerly walked up the short path to the window.

She had disappeared for a moment and then she was back at the window, gesturing towards the door. Nervously, he turned the door knob and stepped inside. His first impression was of order. He'd expected the inside of the house to be just as neglected as the exterior. But the living room was clean; several plush armchairs were set around a low round table that shone in the light. The room consisted mostly of muted shades of red, brown and a few flashes of deep blue here and there. There was a big bowl of flowers on the centre table. The place smelled like jasmine, and oranges?

"Like what you see?" the woman asked, a faint smile on her face.

Her voice seemed like it was right out of one of those fantastic stories of magical beings he was still so enraptured with. Like music, but without the effort of trying.

"Wouldn't you like to sit down?' she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes.

"Um, okay." He wondered what drove him to agree. This was a very suspicious situation. But she was so beautiful. Not conventionally, but to him she resembled the warrior princesses he'd read about as a child. She had large, captivating brown eyes and long, shimmering black hair. She could've been anywhere between twenty five and forty five, he couldn't tell. She was dressed in a simple flowery dress, but seemed as elegant as royalty.

"Would you like some tea? I was just about to have some."

"A-alright," he stuttered, glancing at her nervously.

"Here, it's mint flavoured."

He sipped his tea awkwardly. Unable to bear the silence, he blurted out, "Your house is like a fairytale." He winced at the childish remark. To his surprise, she burst out laughing. Her laugh was like, God help him he had to say it, magic. It was entrancing. Everything about her was.

Ignoring the warnings in his head, he plowed on, "What I meant was-"

"It's alright, you needn't explain. I understand." She went on, smiling, "This house is more than eighty years old, of course the garden only came later. Actually, it was a gift, for my seventh birthday. I would always urge my father to tell me stories about fairies and kings and magicians…so he decided to give me a magic garden, where I was the Princess and the flowers were my subjects, like my father put it…" she trailed off, lost in memories when she shook her head, smiling, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to bore you."

"Oh no! It's alright, I think it's fascinating. I loved those stories as well, I still do actually," he said sheepishly, "I know it's childish, but I just…"

"The magic is always there for those who choose to see it, it has nothing to do with age or maturity, don't you think?"

"I guess…" He smiled, glad that she didn't think he was foolish.

"You go to school here," it was more a statement.

"Yes, I'm in the tenth grade. I had a test today actually, maths, I don't hate it, but I could do with less of it…I prefer literature. What was your favourite subject?"

She grinned, "I was home schooled, I used to be very ill as a child, not that I'm any better now, but like you, literature was my passion. For someone who's always closed up indoors, books were my window to the outside world. It's very powerful, knowing that you can live entire lifetimes, several times over, just within the pages of a mere book. It was reasonable compensation for one who couldn't do it in reality. Of course, I was always partial to stories pertaining to other imaginary worlds. Maybe it's silly, but still…"

"But still," Van smiled back, understanding perfectly.

They both turned around at the sound of the doorbell.

"Could you get the door for me please, dear?" she asked.

"Sure," he obliged, going to the door. Standing there was a plump, middle-aged woman with large grocery bags who openly stared at him. Pushing him aside, she stepped in, leaving Van gaping indignantly.

"Here you go Miss. Surda, I brought your groceries for the week, and the books that you asked for as well, such lovely weather today, isn't it? I'd stay but Merle has dance class, and I have to go drop her," she ended as she dumped the bags on the floor.

"That's alright, Nita, thank you again for bringing these over," Miss. Surda said as she handed Nita some money, "I really appreciate this, I'll see you next week then?"

"Yes, yes, don't you worry, I'll be there," again she looked at Van as if he were a blotch on the face of mankind, and bustled out, leaving him utterly perplexed, still standing by the door.

"Don't mind Nita, she may seem to be rude, but she's very kind. She brings me provisions because I feel too tired to manage it," Miss. Surda said.

"But you don't look…" _ill _was what he was going to say, but on looking closely he realised she had faint shadows under her eyes, and she seemed too pale to be deemed healthy.

"I don't believe I know your name."

"It's Van, Van Fanel. I should really get going now, thanks for the tea."

"It was my pleasure, I so rarely have visitors. It was delightful talking to someone who shares so many of my interests. You're welcome to come over anytime, I would greatly enjoy your company."

Blushing slightly, he said, "It was really nice talking to you too Miss. Surda…"

"Call me Varie, Miss. Surda makes me feel old," she smiled.

"Varie." He smiled hesitantly, "Thank you again, I'll drop by again soon, I enjoy talking to you too. Well, I'll see you later then."

"Until next time, Van."

He smiled shyly. Picking up his book bag, he left, smiling absently to himself. Who would've thought that finally meeting the woman would do nothing to quell the mystique and allure he associated with the house and its inhabitant?


	2. Chapter 2

Van had decided not to tell anyone of his encounter with Varie yet. So he carried on with his daily routine, only with a slight change. Instead of heading straight home, he'd go visit her as often as three to four times a week. What was difficult was dodging the questions regarding his frequent absences at home. He'd tell his parents that he was just going off to play football with his friends, and they believed him. But it was hard convincing his older brother of the fact, so he'd taken to avoiding him. One day, as he was about to go visit his new friend again, he was stopped by Folken, his older brother.

"Where are you off to in such a hurry?"

"I'm meeting the guys for football…" Van lied.

"Really now. That's strange. I met your friend the other day, he said you hardly ever came to play these days."

"Look, it's none of your business what I do in my free time. Why don't you just go flirt with your girlfriends like you usually do?" This time, Van knew he'd crossed the line, but he still glared up at his brother defiantly.

Eyes narrowed with anger, Folken said softly, "Like you said little brother, what I do in my own time is none of your business either, but you better not be doing something stupid that you'll end up regretting seeing as how you have a knack for such things. If Mom and Dad ever find out you've been lying you're going to be in so much trouble kid…don't push your luck."

"Just leave me the hell alone alright? Stay out of my life, you've no right to interfere," he yelled and grabbed his bike.

"Van, wait!"

It was too late. Folken stood there, watching his little brother's retreating form vanish in a cloud of dust. He sighed and went back inside, hoping Van would be alright.

Van bit back the rage as he pedalled furiously to Varie's house.

_How dare he? He was never at home anyway, he hardly had the time to spare to even acknowledge his existence, and now he was telling him what to do? He had no right. He was just a selfish, arrogant prick. He had no right to make him miserable when he didn't even make him happy._

Tossing his cycle against the outside wall of the Surda residence, he strode inside, ringing the doorbell, putting all his frustration into the push of that button.

"It's open!" Varie called from inside.

Pushing the door opened, he went in, took his shoes off and would have flung them aside if he hadn't reminded himself of where he was.

Varie was sitting on a chair, books scattered about all around her, and one in her hand. She was looking at him with a concerned smile. Her presence alone was enough to calm him a little. Only sulking a little bit by now, he sauntered over to her and slumped in the chair opposite hers.

"I hate cauliflower," he declared.

"Of course you do. Even I wouldn't trust a vegetable that calls itself a flower."

Reluctantly, he smiled, "I'm sorry, I'm just in a bad mood. I had a fight with my brother."

"Oh?" she asked, eyebrow raised.

"How do you do that?" he asked.

"Do what?"

"That! The whole eyebrow thing. I mean you don't even have to say anything, that eyebrow says it all!"

"Really? What does it say then?" she asked, obviously amused.

"Never mind. It's nothing. Why do brothers have to such a pain anyway?"

"I wouldn't know, I'm an only child," Varie humoured him, preparing herself for his rant.

"He's such a monumental pain! He's always bossing me around, telling me what to do. I wouldn't mind so much if he was actually around to justify his attitude. Whenever he's there, he's always lecturing me. It's been like this ever since he went off to college. He probably thinks he's too cool to hang out with his younger brother..." he went on in the same vein for a while, until all the pent up steam was released. Varie patiently listened to him, taking in every word.

When he was done, he sighed loudly and sunk deeper into his seat.

He looked so forlorn, she had the urge to pat his head and murmur sweet words of comfort. Knowing how a reaction like that would be received, she refrained. Instead, she handed him the book she was reading before he came in.

Glancing at the cover, he looked at the title – 'The Magic Brush'. He'd never heard of it before. He looked up at her, questioningly.

"It's one of my favourites. It's the story of a poor little boy who loves to paint. He goes to sleep one night, wishing he could afford a new paintbrush. When he wakes up the next morning, he finds a beautiful paintbrush by his pillow. Soon he discovers that whatever he paints with it comes to life, just like magic."

Van smiled, "And we both know how much we love magic…"

Nodding, Varie got up and went inside. She came out a few minutes later to find him still brooding. She kneeled next to his chair and put an album in his lap.

"What's this?"

"It's a picture album. Memories, as I like to call them. Of my parents, and myself when I was a child. See that? That's when I disobeyed my mother and climbed up the bookcase so I could reach for my pet kitten which was sleeping on it. I fell and sprained my ankle. My mother was terrified, but I didn't mind so much. It gave everyone the chance to fuss over me, plus I had an unlimited supply of chocolates from sympathisers," she said fondly.

They sat looking at the pictures for the next half hour as Varie entertained him with anecdotes of her childhood.

"Those were good times. After my mother died, well, it was hard on us both. My father took it especially hard. I was just seven, so I recovered soon, as is expected from one so young. But I don't think my father ever did. Still, we had some very good times together. And then he left too years later."

"You must really miss him," Van said softly.

She just smiled and took the album inside.

This time she returned to find him looking worried, and just a little sad.

"You still miss him don't you?" she asked quietly.

"Miss who?"

"Your brother. He's here, but you still miss him."

Van didn't say anything. He just stared at the spot in front of him.

A few minutes passed when he said finally, "Yes."

Saying nothing, Varie put a cup of jasmine tea in his hands and sat down, leaning forward.

"We used to be really close. He's older to me by around ten years, but we still did a lot together. I used to look up to him. Sometimes my father joked that I listened to him more than I did to my own parents. He was the best big brother anyone could have. Then he went away to college and I didn't see him so much anymore. Things just got bad from then on. He moved away, started working. He never had time for me anymore, even when he called, he'd hardly speak to me at all…"

"So you thought he didn't care for you as much anymore?" she asked kindly.

"I know I'm being immature about this. He's an adult, he has responsibilities, but I wish…I just wish I could talk to him. He has been trying to I guess, but I was always so mad and hurt that I'd ignore him. So I could just blame him and not have to face the fact that he had really left."

"But he never left you, Van. I know, it's hard. Especially when you depend on him so much. it's how I felt when father passed away. But you see, the longer you hold on to that grudge, the sooner you forget about why you really needed and loved him. Time's short, Van, don't waste it on regret."

Van bowed his head and was quiet for a while.

Then, "You're right. I guess I knew that too, I just didn't want to see it." Suddenly smiling, he looked up at his friend, "You always have a way of making things better…it makes me guilty, I never do anything for you…"

As a smile spread across her face, she said, "You've done more than you realise Van. Much more than you realise. Now shouldn't you go back and apologise to your brother?"

"What makes you think the argument was my fault?" he asked, a little offended.

Laughing, she said, "Because my dear, you all but admitted it yourself, such is the transparency of your nature!"

Miffed, he merely grunted.

"It's a good thing. Don't take offence. Now go, your brother's waiting, and I must rest. I don't have quite the energy as you."

Grinning, he got up, "Thank you Varie, for everything. I'll be back tomorrow…and I'll bring you a surprise too!"

Before she could respond, he was out the door and on his way home.

That night, after a lot of thinking, and several times of walking to his brother's room and back, he finally mustered up the courage to go talk to him. Surprisingly, Folken behaved like the incident that evening didn't even happen. So they sat together, for what seemed like hours, trying to make up for all those years they'd missed.

"So tell me, these football matches, is it a girl?" Folken teased.

Van blushed and punched his arm half-heartedly, "It's not like you think…"

"So it _is_ a girl then!"

"She's not a girl, she's a woman."

Gasping in mock surprise, Folken said, "This is worse than I thought, when did my baby brother grow up so?"

"Shut up!" Van huffed, still blushing, "She's a friend, and she's over twenty-five."

"Mm-hmm."

"I'm serious. You know the Surda residence?"

"The one with the overgrown forest that you were obsessed with since you were a kid?"

"Yeah, she lives there. Her name's Varie. She's amazing. She's got this ethereal beauty about her. I don't know. She's really nice and kind, but she always seems so sad. She smiles a lot, but I've hardly ever seen it reach her eyes," he smiled as he continued, "Her eyes. They're like portals to another dimension. And you know what the best part is? She loves books too, and she believes in magic. Not the abracadabra silly stuff. You know what I mean though. You have to see her to believe her. I can't figure her out, but I want to make her happy. She shouldn't be so sad all the time. I want to put a real smile on her face. It's the least I can do. It's strange, I've only known her a short while but she means more to me than I would've ever expected…"

"Sounds to me like someone's in love," Folken grinned.

"It's not like that! I'm serious. I admit I used to have a little crush on her before, but I just…she's like an angel. An angel sentenced to life among mortals, away from her real home…"

"That's a pretty powerful statement."

Van sighed, "I know."

"Seems to me like she enjoys your company too if you've known each other that long. Don't worry about it too much kid, I'm sure she'll be alright, she has you to talk to doesn't she?" Smiling crookedly, he added, "I mean, women are suckers for the sweet, sensitive types."

This time, Van didn't punch his brother quite as gently, but he couldn't stop himself from chuckling about it.

Settling back against the bed, he relaxed. A comfortable silence settled upon them, as they sat looking out at the clear night sky, softly lit by a dull gold moon.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Van woke up in a cheerful mood, glad at having so many things resolved, and looking forward to meeting Varie. Rushing through the morning rituals and breakfast, he absently bid his mother goodbye and raced his bike to Varie's house.

Still whistling, he tossed his bicycle against the gate, as usual, and knocked a rhythmic beat on the door, nodding in sync with the tune. Hearing Varie call out, he breezed in, shifting a little box from one hand to the other.

"Good morning!" he greeted cheerfully.

"Is it?" Varie asked from behind a pile of books she was busy rearranging.

"Sure it is! Haven't you looked? Maybe we could go for a walk later, it's a beautiful day," Van continued, hopping from one foot to the other as he tried to dance along to the tune that had been incessantly playing in his head ever since he woke up.

"I don't think that's likely," Varie answered unenthusiastically.

"Wha…?" He stopped moving and noticed, for the first time since he came in, how tired she looked, "Are you sick?"

Varie stopped shuffling books around and looked at him as she crouched on the floor, there was something inscrutable about her expression, it seemed like a culmination of anger, sadness, and bitterness.

"Varie…what's wrong?" Van kneeled down next to her on the floor.

"It's nothing. Forgive me, I didn't mean to snap."

Van considered her uncertainly. Her eyes, they looked so…blank, devoid of the emotion that usually lit them up.

"Are you-"

"Yes Van, I'm fine. Don't worry about me. Tell me about you. I trust things went well with your brother?" she changed the subject.

Giving in, for now, Van went along with her, "Oh yeah, it helped a lot talking to you yesterday, Folken and I talked almost all night, just like old times. There was so much to catch up on…I slept better than I think I did in a long time. It feels good, you know? I thought it was too late to make amends, but I guess I was wrong…"

Varie smiled, the sentiment not quite reaching her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to ramble. So what did you do yesterday? Did you read anything new?" Van asked lightly.

"Not really, I was tired, so I rested for the most part," was her dull response.

"Yeah? I hope you feel better now, come to think of it, you don't really look so good today," Van said, eyes narrowed in concern.

"Have I ever?"

"Was that supposed to be rhetorical?"

"I'm in no mood for word-play now Van. I'm not in the best of spirits today, you'll have to excuse me," she answered blithely.

Taken aback, Van opened and closed his mouth, before hastily plowing on in an attempt to lighten her mood, "Oh and by the way, remember I told you yesterday that I'd get you a surprise? Well here it is," Van handed Varie the box with both hands, barely containing the nervous excitement.

"You really shouldn't have…" she trailed off, accepting the gift anyway.

She tore open the box and scooped out the paper confetti, revealing a small, framed painting.

Varie gasped in surprise and gently extricated it from the box, holding the tiny painting in her palms. It depicted the half sun, hovering on the horizon over a rippling ocean that mirrored the magnificence of the radiant sky.

Van held his breath and waited for a reaction, that didn't seem to be coming. Nervously, he went on, "I've been painting it for a while, I know it's not that great, but it's one of my best so far, that's not saying much but I thought you might like it and that it would cheer you up and…"

Varie sat still, her face shrouded by her straight, long hair. After what seemed like an eternity, she asked hoarsely, "This painting…is it the sunset?"

"Um, I know, that can be confusing, but I prefer to think of it as the sunrise," his eyes darted nervously from the painting to Varie and back to the painting.

"Why?" she demanded, almost harshly.

Surprised at her tone, Van gaped at her, wondering about the outburst, and very unnerved by her reaction to his gift.

Taking a deep breath, Varie said, more gently this time, "Tell me Van, why is it the sunrise?"

"B-Because it's like a new beginning…uh, well, I know, it's silly, but I like to think of it as a symbol of hope, of fresh starts," slightly more confident by her encouraging nod, Van continued, "I preferred it to the sunset because I guess I feel like when it happens, well, darkness descends, and even though the same limitless possibilities that existed in the morning still do, it doesn't seem like someone would have as much faith anymore…like it was a lost cause maybe, because time's running out…"

Varie turned her gaze back to the painting, maintaining what seemed to Van, a thick foreboding silence.

"I know it's a foolishly romantic view to take, but…I thought that…" Van couldn't go on. A heavy feeling of dejection settling in his heart. He meant to surprise her, but in an attempt to make her smile, not make her more upset. He slumped to the floor, unsure of what to do next, feeling too guilty to leave and too awkward to say anything.

"It's all just an illusion though isn't it?" Varie whispered, so low, he had to strain his ears to catch what she said.

Van looked at her expectantly, hoping she'd go on because he couldn't ask her to, his voice seemed to have deserted him.

"All this, the idea that darkness smothers all hope. The sun can be cruel, so harsh…it's brutally honest, because one's flaws seem so apparent during the day, when otherwise they would be muted by night. A sunrise is a reminder of another new day, another day after having failed, time after time, another day of watching all your dreams shatter, just as always…what's the point of hope when there is never any indication in favour if it? What's the point of telling oneself that things will get better when the truth mocks you, telling you in clear terms that it is futile, it changes nothing…why hope when all it does is take you high only to drag you deeper and deeper every time it's proved useless? Why-" her voice broke. Her fingers were white as they dug into the frame of the painting. Her head was bowed, hair covering her face and falling gracefully over her plain white dress.

"Varie…" Van whispered shakily. He was at a complete loss, the dread he felt earlier turning into complete shock and dismay. He had never seen her so desolate, she was always so full of life. He knelt there and dumbly stared at her, not knowing what to do. He slowly reached his hand out towards her.

"You should go Van," she said softly.

His hand jerked back in midair, "But-"

"Please…" she murmured, her voice fragile.

Van drew his hand back and rested it on his thigh. Hanging his head in defeat, he got up slowly, and looked at her crouched form, finding it a little hard to see behind the film of moisture gathering on his eyes.

"I'm…sorry," he whispered, and padded across the room. In a daze, he put his shoes on and hesitated as he was about to close the door when he heard a strangled sob. His brown eyes swimming with remorse, he turned away and wheeled his bicycle out.

He stopped again when he reached the gate, eyes blurring on the lovely green creepers that twined around the bars, "I'm so sorry…"

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A/N: I think I might end this in the next two or three chapters, not that I think there are too many people reading this, it is sort of an offbeat story. But for those of you who liked it or didn't but still have something to say, reviews would be nice. This is one of my personal favourites, and I'd like to know how I'm holding up in it...


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